


A light to guide your steps

by keysburg



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Meet-Cute, Modern AU, in the style of Grey's Anatomy, not a Greys AU because they're not doctors and derek is a slimeball, spies are terrible at relationships, starting a new job is terrible, the author lacking inspiration for smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: The night before her new job in a new town, Peggy goes looking for distraction.  She finds it, with unforeseen consequences.





	A light to guide your steps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [muscatmusic18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/muscatmusic18/gifts).



Peggy found herself at loose ends. Tomorrow she would finally start her position as Interpol liaison to the NYC branch of the FBI. Right now, it was Sunday afternoon and she had nothing to do. Moving into her little Brooklyn apartment hadn’t taken long. That morning, she took a quick trip to the hardware store and the grocery and hung her one picture. Then she pressed her clothes for tomorrow--and the whole week. Now with no internet or cable hooked up yet, she was watching the shadows slowly lengthen and growing increasingly nervous about her first day at work.

That was ridiculous. Peggy didn’t need to be nervous; she needed to be busy. Without any better ideas, she took herself down to the pub on the corner.

It was frightening how much it felt like home. She didn’t know any of the obvious regulars but they could be the same characters as at home. The only thing that was different were the accents.  


And the amount of chat. At home everyone would ask after her family and how work was going, and then follow it up by asking every other person there. Here, even the fellows who seemed to know each other kept their comments to simple greetings or the football game on the tv.

Others had warned her about the New Yorker reserve. She hadn’t quite believed it. The enforced proximity must at least encourage interaction? It did when she was in service, but denizens of the city weren’t united by purpose or guided by rank. It didn’t matter. The whiskey worked the same as always, sliding a thin screen between her worries and her conscious mind. They were still there but not so immediately present, no longer demanding her full attention. On her second round Peggy began to relax and look around a little more.

She was at the end of the bar, next to the waitress station, but two stools to her right was a very handsome man, somewhat younger than the rest of the clientele. His hair was black and curling, his eyes nearly as dark. They seemed a little out of focus, not like he was inebriated but like he was thinking about something.

The man on her left was looking rough, counting out the last bills in his wallet for one more round. The bartender addressed him by name without looking too deep into the man’s red face, clearly a habitual drinker and--damn, she was doing it again. Her job required her to size up a person and make a rapid assessment of the best way to approach and manipulate a mark. That didn’t mean she had to do it to every person she met in her off hours.

That was why she had taken this job. After the her last mission ended--the one that had taken Steve--she couldn’t stop seeing everyone as a threat. She needed to take a step back. This position would let her do that.

And, well, she wasn’t getting back out in the field when her commanding officer had been convinced her judgement was compromised. She didn’t agree, but there would be more opportunities in the U.S.

Even if it meant taking orders from a Yank.

And there it was again. Peggy downed her remaining drink and went to wave at the bartender, but he had come around the bar. Peggy ended up sliding over to the next stool to get out of the way so he could escort the rough-looking man outside. She watched intently in case he needed assistance, vaguely aware that the handsome man, now beside her, was doing the same.

He didn’t. The bartender got his patron into a cab and returned behind the bar, pouring her another round at her signal. 

“Whiskey neat,” he said. “You’re going to be sorry in the morning.”

“I’m always sorry in the morning,” Peggy responded dryly. “But tomorrow I start my first day at work, so keep them coming.”

“I’ll take one too, Gary,” the handsome man said, draining his beer glass. “Good place to hang out, huh?” This was directed to Peggy in the driest of tones.

“It does remind me a bit of home,” Peggy admitted, watching surprise flick across his face. She managed not to roll her eyes at him. No doubt he thought she’d be more at home someplace a little less common, but she couldn’t stand a stuffy bar. “What’s your excuse?” she asked, eyeing his modest but well-tailored pants and sports jacket.

“No one thinks to look for me here,” the man admitted. “I’m Daniel by the way…?”

“Peggy. And who is looking for you?”

“Oh, you know. Loan sharks, bookies, and angry ex-girlfriends.” This was clearly a joke, meant to deflect her question. “You’ll warn me if you see any coming, right?”

“I don’t know. It would probably be more entertaining to let them catch up with you.”

“Is that what you’re looking for? Entertainment? Or distraction?”

That was more the type of assessment she might make of another person, and it surprised her. Worse, she liked it, and liked his dark intelligent eyes sparkling with humor. But she wasn’t up for sharing right now either.

“Why?” she asked archly. “You think you’re capable of providing either?”

Daniel smiled. “I could give it a shot. How long have you been in the city?”  


“Just a couple days. I’ve visited before, though.”  


Having established that neither of them wanted to talk about themselves, their conversation landed lightly on the relatively safe topic of the local haunts and attractions. Daniel was quite good at not giving away very much, but she could ascertain he had been in the city some time.

A drink later and Daniel was trying very hard to convince her to attend a baseball game while she was here.

“It’s too slow,” Peggy complained.

“That’s why you have to go to the ballpark,” Daniel insisted. “Then you get to relax and soak in the rhythm of the game.” 

“And eat Cracker Jacks?”

“I prefer hot dogs. With a cold beer or three.”

“I guess that’s not exactly torture,” Peggy said, smiling. The bartender drifted back over to see if they wanted another round.

“Not for me, Gary,” Daniel said. Peggy shook her head, and Gary produced their tabs.  


“It was nice chatting with you,” Daniel said politely as they filled out their credit card slips. He wrote his phone number on his receipt and offered it to her. “If you want to do it again, or take in a game, let me know.”  


Peggy hesitated. It wasn’t exactly early, but she doubted she would be able to fall asleep, even with her jet lag. And she was dreading going back to her little place alone. She took the offered slip. “Would you mind walking me home?”

* * *

They walked almost idly, Daniel pointing out things along the way: which bodegas were overpriced, which restaurants to avoid for fear of food poisoning, and which ones were always open, even in snow storms. Peggy was acutely aware of both the depth of his commentary--he must live close by, although he hadn’t said--and a hitch in his walk. It wasn’t quite a limp, and another person might not have noticed it, but it was another mystery for her brain to seize on. Bad shoes? Sports injury?  


At her door she hesitated again. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a memory of Steve lurked, threatening the pain that followed ripping off any scab. It was dim though, and this was easy, light--just what she needed. She looked at Daniel standing there, body language open. She thought he might be the slightest bit uneasy as well, but ready to follow her lead. The whiskey did the rest and she leaned in to kiss him.  


His mouth was warm and soft and unhurried. Peggy wasn’t sure if he let her lead out of politeness or a slight hesitation on his own part, but it didn’t matter because Daniel was here and she had missed this. She let the kiss fully engage her and if she couldn’t quite lose herself in the sensation at least she could focus on Daniel’s reactions, his hands on her waist--  
Down the hall, a door slammed. Daniel pulled back and Peggy’s eyes went to search his face. He was scoping the hall, his breath a little quick.  


“Want to come in?” she asked. He nodded, following her into the apartment. They didn’t make it past the eat-in kitchen before he pulled her to him, kissing her again. It was long and deep, but his hands stayed firmly on her waist. Peggy let hers drift underneath his jacket and up his back, until he pulled away again.

This time they were both breathing fast.  


“Not to be presumptuous,” Daniel said. “But if this is going where I think it is, I have something to disclose.”  


Peggy took a step back and nodded, her arms going around herself. Pending divorce, she guessed to herself. An STD was possible, but unlikely if she was reading him right.  


Daniel hitched one hip on her only stool and pulled up his right pant leg, and that was one mystery solved. Daniel had a prosthetic leg, and was showing her the gleaming metal rod where his shin should be, attached to a foot-shape that disappeared into his shoe. She studied it for a second, and then stepped up to him again.  


“How high does it go?” she asked. In response, he caught her hand and placed it on his thigh, about halfway up. Under her fingers, through the fabric of his pants, she could feel what was probably a plastic socket. Daniel was looking at her, patiently waiting for a response, body language tense.  


“Shark attack, I presume,” she said, smiling. She let her thumb stroke his thigh above the socket.

Daniel gave a huff of relief when he realized she was joking and wasn’t going to ask any personal questions. “Lost a wrestling match with a crocodile, actually.”  


Peggy laughed. “Well, I’m not about to let a mean old croc stop me from getting you naked. What would make you the most comfortable? Pants on, off? Leg on, off?”  


Her frankness caught him off guard, but apparently in a good way. He smiled, his grin almost goofy in relief. “Pants off is good. Leg on is not necessary, but preferable, if you’re ok--  


She kissed him, hard, cutting him off, eager to recapture the momentum they had lost. Daniel returned it with more enthusiasm before, letting her tug his jacket off. He stood, his hands going around her and finding the zipper of her dress.  
Peggy managed to walk them backwards through the living room to her tiny bedroom, and they both lost shoes and and more clothes along the way. They were both down to their underwear by the time he shut the door behind them.

* * *

Peggy woke completely disorientated in her unfamiliar surroundings. It came back to her slowly. New York. New apartment. Naked man asleep next to her, prosthetic leg now leaning against the wall. Work started today--and she was going to be late getting check in at security for her badges if she didn’t hurry.  


Daniel stirred when she got up from the bed and started gathering her work clothes together. “This is--” he started.  


“Unfortunate. I’m going to be late. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen while I shower, but I’m going to have to shove you out the door very soon.”  


Of course she had forgotten her knickers and she had to duck back out of the bathroom still in her robe. Daniel was dressed and had a pot of tea waiting, and she blinked at him.  


“I prefer coffee but caffeine is caffeine. Let me jump in the bathroom for a minute, and I’ll get out of your way.”  


It didn’t take him long at all. She fixed her tea and barely started to sip it and he was out again.  


“Sorry,” she said. “I’m only being dreadfully rude because I have got to go.”  


“I have work as well,” he said. “Although the benefit of being the boss is you can show up late if you feel like it.” Daniel paused. “I do hope I hear from you again.”  


He left. Peggy sighed. This bit was always awkward, and while she really didn’t have time to be less short, she hoped he knew it wasn’t about him. She suspected he wouldn’t have appreciated any reassurances about his prosthetic, and that she really did have a very nice time--  


\--an amazing night, really. She shook herself and hurried to get dressed.

* * *

She was only ten minutes late getting to the security desk, and her accent and a little feigned unfamiliarity with the city smoothed over any issue there anyway. The whole process was so tedious and variable anyway: they reviewed her three forms of ID, took her picture and fingerprints, waited a dog’s age for the data to upload in the computer and her security badge to print. They sent a junior agent down to collect her and he chatted with her amicably while they waited.  


“Everyone is very happy to have you here,” he said. “Interpol didn’t send over much in the way of details beyond your service record, and apparently the briefing between your CO and our Chief last week was canceled. Just as a warning, there’s been some speculation about why someone with your accomplishments would take the liaison position. Do you have family here?”  


“No. I guess we all get a little burned out in the field sometimes,” Peggy said. “What brought you to the New York office?” He happily recounted his career for her until her badge finally printed. They tested it out, with the agent leading her up the elevator and to her office.  


“Chief’s office is down the hall and to the right,” he said. “He wanted you to make sure to get logged on and settled in, but once you’ve done that, go ahead and pop in his office.”  


_Pop in._ That was dreadfully casual and, well, American. Here she was meeting her new boss, a man she would be working very closely with, _who hadn’t even been briefed_ and she was just supposed to pop in like it was nothing. At least she could put it off for a few minutes.  


Technology let her down, by being too cooperative for once. The junior agent had left her a sheet of instructions, a couple accounts to create and where to check and make sure she had access in the databases and cloud. She didn’t have any issues, which seemed pretty impossible for a government office on her first day. And it meant she couldn’t put this off any longer.  


The Chief of FBI New York was standing outside the door of his office when she went down the hall, turned away from her and giving someone instructions. She quickly recapped what she knew of her new boss, which wasn’t much. He hadn’t been in the position very long. He had served in Afghanistan, like her and Steve, until some injury had taken him out of the field.  
From the back he looked...familiar. Her eyes flicked up to the label on next to his door that read _Chief Daniel Sousa_. No, surely there were plenty of Daniels in New York. The chief of a big office like this would hardly hang out in a dive in Brooklyn…  


...where no one would look for him.  


He turned and Peggy almost stopped walking. She forced herself to keep going, despite the fact that she was walking toward the man she had shoved out of her apartment this morning. It was Daniel, who had spent last night in her bed, his tongue doing things she should definitely not be thinking about at work.  


“Hello, Chief,” she greeted him.  


“Peggy?” he asked, confused, looking around. “What are you doing here?”  


“I’m Agent Margaret Carter, from Interpol.”  


“Right,” he said, his eyes briefly closing before he extended his hand. “Welcome to New York.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Tales at Wayside Inn](https://www.enotes.com/topics/tales-wayside-inn/quotes/ships-that-pass-night), you know, where the "ships that pass in the night" came from.
> 
> Before anyone asks, I don't currently plan to write more on this AU but never say never when it comes to fic. 
> 
> Thanks to Paeonia for test reading and lillianfromaccounting for beta services.


End file.
